At the Burrow
by fred the gnome
Summary: Harry spends part of a summer at the burrow. Full of unicorns, death wishes, waffles, and Harry the deranged headless chicken. The last chapter is the best one. COMPLETE
1. A Sort of Prologue Type Thingy

**(A/N: I have no idea where this is gonna go, or anything. I'm writing it because I got bored with my other one. So bear with me…**

**I do think that this one is going to be a lot shorter than the other one. And I don't own Harry Potter, nor do I reserve any rights to the vague Napoleon Dynamite references, of which there are only a few.)**

**Summer at the Burrow**

Harry was asleep at one of his two favorite places on earth… the Burrow.

Peacefully sleeping, silently dreaming… he turned over in his sleep, now lying on his back.

But then he saw something.

He concentrated in his dream. What _was_ that? Even while he slept, he wondered. A bright and steadily growing light, it seemed… what was it… it was going to hit him… this didn't look good… he started to panic… omigod it was so close! Crap! Oh Merlin it was gonna hit him _it was gonna hit him IT WAS GONNA HIT HIM _and then…

"TRAAIIINN!"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!" Harry screamed as he woke up suddenly and, frankly, quite violently. Two identical and hysterically laughing redheaded guys were standing over his bed, holding the muggle flashlight that Harry had brought over his face.

Harry, gasping for breath, gestured to the twin holding the electric torch to turn it off.

"Blinded—… by— the light," Harry choked out.

From downstairs came the voice of Mrs. Weasley. "Boys, are you all right? Harry, is everything okay? Fred, George, you haven't done anything to Harry, have you?"

The twins ignored her. One turned off the flashlight, and the other twin said, in between convulsions of laughter, "Sorry, Harry mate, but we— we had to, see— when we found this thing we couldn't resist and— and— oh, bugger it all! It was funny!"

Harry didn't move, or say a word. That was because, seeing as how he had nearly just peed himself, talking— oh, heck, _breathing_ was proving difficult at that moment. Which brought Harry to his next point. After he had gotten his breath back somewhat, he managed to choke out, "Why?"

"Well, Mum wanted Ron to tell you that breakfast's ready, but he couldn't wake you up. Seems you were mumbling something about a certain Ravenclaw—"

At this the other one snickered.

"—and he didn't want to wake you," the twin— George?— concluded.

"And so we took matters into our own hands," the other said gleefully.

Harry sighed. Although the event had nearly given him a heart attack, he thought, _It _was _kind of funny… probably took ten years off my life, but… funny, I guess_.

"…Oh," said Harry, as he tried to slow his breathing. "Next time, leave it… leave it to Ron."

"Aw, Ickle Ronnikins? Nah, he's too much of a wotchy git to ever _wake anyone up_," the twin whom Harry now believed to be Fred said in a sarcastic tone.

And, of course, exactly at that moment, Ron entered the room. Naturally, he heard what Fred said, and turned red like the wotchy git he apparently was.

"I am― I am _not_ a wotchy git!" Ron said furiously.

"Oh, come off it, Ronnikins, of course you are," Fred said nonchalantly.

After staring at the two for a second, Ron evidently decided that it wasn't worth fighting over. And more importantly, there was absolutely no way he could win. Not against those two. If he tried to defy them, guaranteed he would wake up the next morning as a giant toenail clipping or something disgusting like that.

So instead of fighting it out, he said, trying to be calm, "Harry, it's time for breakfast. Come on, then," and grabbed Harry's arm to attempt to get him downstairs. But unluckily for Harry, Fred and George got a hold of his other arm.

Ripping him out of bed (and in the process, possibly dislocating his shoulder), the twins dragged Harry down the stairs. Literally.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow _ow ow ow ow OW OW OW OW OW!"_ Harry shouted fruitlessly as Fred and George dragged him down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Look who we found!" Fred said cheerily, holding up one of Harry's legs.

"Ow," Harry said one last time, just for effect, as Ron ran into the room behind them.

Mrs. Weasley rushed over and shouted, "FRED!"

"Hey, he did it too!" Fred said, pointing to George. George stared at him for a second, then immediately dropped Harry's other leg and sprinted up the stairs. Fred took one glance at his mum's seething glare and followed suit, shouting, "WAIT UP!" A second later, a door slammed upstairs, and from what the listeners in the kitchen (consisting of Harry, Ron, Ginny, Bill, Percy, and Mr. Weasley) could tell, someone started trying to break the door down. Apparently it was Fred, because a second later, he shouted, "George, you git! Let me in! I think I broke my nose!"

George's voice, slightly muffled from being in his room, replied, "It's called _stopping before you run into things!_ Or possibly even _slowing down!"_

"Well, I didn't know there was going to be a door there! Let me in!"

"No! And you know, I can see you looking in through the keyhole."

"Well, what are you going to do about it?"

There was a slight pause, and then, "AAAAUUUUGHHHHH! MY EYE! THAT'S NOT WHAT WANDS ARE FOR, YOU GIT!"

The kitchen was totally silent as the beholders of this amazingly spederific event listened to this. They heard the door slowly creak open, and George's voice, "You all right there, Fred? Let me see your eye―" There was an odd exclamation of horror as George apparently looked at Fred's eye. "Look at that! It's got to be the size of a bloody Bludger by now!"

"Or as big as your―"

"It's huge!"

"―ego!" Fred finished. "it's bloody huge! Were you _trying _to poke my eye out?"

"Yes."

The following sequence of events was extremely odd. It went something like this:

"I hate you!"

"I hate you more!"

"Well, you're a giant waffle!"

"What! What are you talking about? Are you feeling all right? Fred, did you drink coffee right before you went to sleep again? You_ know_ that makes you hallucinate!"

A small explosion

"Ha! _Now_ you're a giant waffle!"

"Turn me back, you nark!"

"HAHAHA! NO!"

"Well, then, you're a llama named Tina!"

"Nuh-uh!"

Another small explosion

"AAAH! You turned me into a woman!"

"Yep!"

"I thought you said you were gonna turn me into a llama named Jacqueline!"

"Tina."

"Whatever. I'm a woman!"

"It took you that long to notice?"

"No, you git!"

At this point, Mrs. Weasley decided that she had had enough. "FRED AND GEORGE, GET DOWN HERE NOW!" she shouted, startling everyone else out of their rapt oblivion (yes, oxymoron, I know) to all but the twins' bickering. "I SAID _NOW!"_

A huge waffle with George's legs and a woman with Fred's clothes on walked into the kitchen a few moments later. The waffle actually kind of shuffled, because it was so wide that it wouldn't have fit into _two_ doorways.

"Yes, mum?" the woman inquired with a grin.

Mrs. Weasley just stared, dumbstruck, but everyone else started laughing hysterically.

_This is going to be an interesting summer,_ Harry thought happily.


	2. Harry Decides to Kill Fred and George

**(A/N: I'm bored, tired, on the phone, and listening to music. And my brain hurts. And I'm dead. Almost. There's a big difference between barely alive and not at all alive. Heh heh. That's from the Princess Bride. Anyway.)**

Chapter Two

Harry had a splitting headache.

However, this time it was not from his scar, or at least he was pretty sure it wasn't. He was happy about that, because usually when he complained about his scar hurting, he ended up getting arrested or nearly sent to the nearest padded room. The much more probable explanation was that hitting his head off nearly every step in the Weasley house had had a much worse aftereffect than anyone had imagined.

Suddenly the door opened. Fred and George came into the room (where Harry was lying on the bad, rubbing his head) and one of them (Fred, he thought) handed him a small blue piece of what looked like taffy.

"Sorry about earlier, mate," Fred said, looking apologetic. "We didn't really _mean_ to drag you down the stairs, it just sort of— you know— happened."

Harry looked at them skeptically. He didn't exactly understand how you could drag someone down the stairs by _accident_.

"Yeah, and because we felt so bad—" the other began.

"—we brought you—"

"—this. It should—"

"—clear up your headache in no time," they finished in unison.

Harry looked at the blue— thingy— in his hand suspiciously. He was noticing a pattern: generally, whenever the twins nearly killed him, it was an 'accident' and 'funny.' He supposed that if he ate the blue thing and died horrifically, it would be just another 'funny' and 'accidental' incident. Har har. Hilarious.

"What's it do?" he asked.

"It's supposed to cure headaches, you swotty nancy-boy. Duh," said George.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked disbelievingly. He didn't really think that the twins would ever do anything nice for anyone without reason. "And how did you know I had a headache?"

"When _don't_ you have a headache?" Fred replied offhandedly. "And yes, we're sure. Just eat it. Merlin, some people just can't accept help! Do you have some kind of, like, hero complex?"

Harry glared at him, then hesitantly put it in his mouth and swallowed. Nothing happened.

And a split second later, his headache went away.

Harry was amazed. Nothing had gone wrong? The Weasley twins were actually acting nice for once? This was new.

"Thanks, guys," he said, much happier now.

Then he noticed that both of the twins were staring at his forehead with looks of disbelief on their faces. They looked at each other, then immediately started laughing uproariously.

Harry panicked. What had happened? "WHAT HAPPENED!" he shouted at them. "STOP LAUGHING! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME!"

"Look… look in a mirror, " George said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Harry walked over to where a small mirror was sitting on the dresser and looked.

And he screamed.

Seething, he turned around to face the twins, who immediately started laughing even harder.

"I CAN'T BLOODY BELIEVE YOU!" he roared! "I CAN'T BLOODY BELIEVE YOU! I'M GOING TO BLOODY KILL YOU!"

**The End. Of that chapter. What did you think? Suspense! Reviews are appreciated. What have Fred and George done to Harry? Haha that sounded nasty. But it's not! I swear. Until next chapter…****  
**


	3. Ron is Scarred for Life

**A/N: Ok, chappy 3 is finally up. I am amazed at how little effort this fic is involving. My other one had REALLY REALLY REALLY long chapters, and this is a nice break from it. On to chapter threeeeeeeeeeee!**

**Chapter Drei!**

With Harry's new 'development,' he was the laughingstock of the Weasley household. (No, guys, not what you're thinking! haha)

Well, not really. He was more the laughingstock of the Weasley _twins_, seeing as how they were the only ones that had seen it yet. The three boys were standing in Harry's room, exactly where we just left off. The twins were laughing hysterically at Harry's plight, despite the fact that they were the ones who had put it there. Ah, the joy of laughing at other people's problems.

He couldn't believe they had made him grow a bloody unicorn horn.

They had given him a pill to clear up his headache… but the pill had done much worse than that. Much, much worse. Much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much, much— _Author slaps Harry because he's being boring, repetitive and melodramatic_

_Ow!_ Harry thinks, wondering where that came from, but quickly forgetting about it due to his short attention span.

A bloody horn.

Meanwhile, the twins had quieted down a bit, and were now staring at Harry, bright-eyed, a remnants of a smile still tugging at their lips.

"Harry, mate," said Fred (at least Harry was pretty sure it was Fred).

"We're really sorry," George said.

"But we didn't know it would do that," Fred said. "And Harry, you must admit, that is truly an admirable horn." For indeed, it was almost two feet long. Worse, it was pink… and _sparkly. _They had turned him into a pink-and-sparkly-horned _monstrosity._

"Nuh-uh! You're not a monstrosity!" Fred said indignantly.

"Yes I— _wait a second!_ How did you know what I was thinking?"

"Um— I— It was kind of obvious in your face, Harry," Fred said quickly, exchanging a glance with George. Changing the subject, he added, "And we definitely didn't realize it was going to do _that_."

"I mean, we've never tested it on anyone before," George said.

Harry's eyes bugged out of his head. "WHAT? I was the FIRST?"

"We mean, no one that counts," Fred said hastily. "Only me 'n Forge. But for George, all it did was make him grow a really big mustache. He just shaved it off and it hasn't grown back."

"And for Fred, it did something, but no one noticed because it's… erm… not in a noticeable place," George said.

"Because he needed to know that," Fred said sarcastically, looking sideways at George.

"Actually, I think he did, in case it happens to him," George said.

"Good point. Harry, you might want to watch for that."

"We have a pill for that too."

"We do?"

Harry glared at them. "I can't believe you did this to me! Why did you have to test it on _me_? What have I ever done to you?"

"Well, there _was_ that one time when you borrowed 3 Knuts from us and never paid 'em back," Fred said thoughtfully.

"Yes I did, are you thick?" Harry asked, exasperated.

"Oh, that's right, you _did_ pay 'em back," George said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Now, don't you roll your eyes at us, Harry, my friend—" Fred began.

"Friend, yeah right," Harry interrupted.

"_—ANNNY_way, Harry, the point is, we'll help you fix it."

"Yeah, just like you fixed my headache," he replied flatly.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" George asked with a smile.

"Yes, but—"

"And your headache hasn't come back, has it?"

"No, but—"

"And there are no noticeable side effects, are there?"

"WHAT? Are you on drugs? What do you call this pointy thing growing out of my head?"

"That's what I thought. So you see, there's really nothing wrong," George finished up, completely ignoring Harry's look of outrage.

"Extraordinary logic, my brother," Fred said, beaming.

"As always," George replied jauntily, smiling extravagantly.

Harry said nothing, merely stood there, still seething. _How_ he would ever venture outside the room again he had no idea. The horn wasn't going to go away by itself (probably) and he'd never see the light of day again if he didn't get rid of it…

"How?" he asked the twins bluntly.

"How what?" they replied innocently in unison.

"How will you get rid of it?"

The twins exchanged a very evil look. "How will we get rid of what?"

Harry glared at them and pointed to his horn. "THIS!"

Fred laughed and said, "Ooh, look, George, Harry's horny!"

George said, "Stay away from me, you weird necrophiliac!"

"I AM NOT A NECROPHILIAC!" Harry bellowed. "THAT DOESN'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH BEING… YOU KNOW… WHAT YOU SAID BEFORE! SO STOP IT! _HOW CAN I BLOODY GET RID OF IT?"_

Then came what Harry had been half-expecting.

"It's gonna cost you."

Harry rolled his eyes yet again. He seemed to be making a habit out of this. "Fine. What do you want?"

The twins exchanged another evil look as malicious smiles grew on their faces.

"All we want…" began George.

"Is for you…" Fred continued George's sentence.

"To promise us one thing."

Although he was sure that this couldn't be good, Harry looked at them, then said, "Fine. What?"

Naturally, a huge grin grew on each of the twins' faces, and Fred said, "Promise you'll promise?"

"Huh?"

"I said, do you promise that you'll make the promise we want you to promise to promise… that you'll promise to promise."

"Um… no."

"Then you're gonna have that horn for the rest of your life."

"You'll _never _get a girlfriend!" George exclaimed as he started laughing, apparently overcome with hilarity at the thought of Harry's lonely future.

"I'll bet that weird Creevey kid would go out with him."

"The kid already stalks him. He'd _marry_ Harry if Harry asked him."

"Yeah, but so would Ron, and Ron is straight, I think. So Harry must just be a woman."

"Harry, let us help you with your gender confusion."

"WHAT!" Harry yelled, confused. Because that's just what Harry did when he got confused. He yelled. And sometimes he ran around screaming like a deranged headless chicken. He'd never told anyone that, though.

"What we're trying to tell you, Harry, deranged headless chicken—"

Harry gave them a suspicious look. How had they known about the deranged headless chicken thing?

"—is that refuse our offer—"

"—the one about the promise—"

"—and you will wake up tomorrow morning as a woman."

"Irreversibly," Fred added, smiling.

"There is something really, really, really wrong with you two," Harry said, very disturbed.

"Thank you!" they chorused happily.

Harry muttered something along the lines of "_not_ a compliment."

"Well?" Fred asked. "What do you say?"

"I don't really have a choice, do I?" Harry grumbled. "What do I have to promise to do?"

"It's quite simple, really," George said. "Tonight, out parents are going out. Ginny is forcing us to all play a game of Truth or Dare— we're doing it just to humor her, we think it sounds bloody idiotic and so does Ronnikins."

"And we're sure you do too," Fred added. "I can't believe you told her yes," he said to George.

"Well, she threatened me with a broomstick in her hand, was I supposed to say no?" George responded.

"Yes."

"Well, I didn't. Get over it."

"I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual. Now, Harry--"

"What, you hate me?" Fred interrupted. "You're so immature!"

"Oh, _I'm_ the immature one now, am I? Well I think-- OW! Stop poking me!"

Fred simply poked him again.

"STOP IT!" George bellowed. "I'M GOING TO BLOODY MURDER YOU!" And with that last thinly veiled death threat— ok, not at all veiled death threat— the full-out poking war began.

It had been going on for about three minutes when Harry got a brilliant idea. He noted that neither of the Weasley twins were paying attention to him. They were too busy attempting murder-by-poking. He also took note of the fact that there was an opening in the wall less than three feet away. This opening was called a doorway, and was relatively easy for Harry to walk through, unless he was chewing gum at the same time. He wasn't quite _that_ coordinated. But right now, it was obstructed by a large block of wood commonly known as a _door_. The aforementioned _door_ was locked, however, but all one had to do was _unlock_ the _door_, and if one did this, then one would be able to walk easily through the doorway, provided that they opened the door first, of course. As Harry had proven time and time again, it is quite difficult to walk through a closed door. The realization that he could escape this promise was slowly growing, and this caused Harry to burst out, "I've… GOT A PLAN!" and smile maniacally, pleased to no end with himself.

Amazingly, even Harry's cry of "I've GOT A PLAN!" was not enough to stop the twins from their fight. Harry edged slowly towards the doorway… slowly… sllloowwwllllyyyy… s l l l o o w w w l l l l y y y y . . . he was almost there… and he touched the doorknob… turned it slowly… creaked open the door and… sprintedasfastahecouldfordearlifeoutintothehallandslammedthedoorshut!

Harry stood with his back to the door, panting heavily. He looked up at the ceiling in relief, an expression of happiness lighting up his face. Then he saw it.

The horn.

SHITOCKI MUSHROOMS! HE HAD FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE BLOODY HORN! IT WAS PINK AND FREAKING SPARKLY! WHAT WAS HE GONNA DO? Well, that wasn't hard. He did what ANY panicking person would do! Run around in circles for a half a minute, screaming frantically, then run back into the room, slam the door, and stare in fright at the gleeful expressions of Fred and George Weasley.

"Anyway, Horny I mean Harry, what we were going to say before we started trying to kill each other was—" But he was cut off by the sound of Ron knocking on the door.

"HEY! Fred, George, is everything all right in there? We heard screaming, and it sounded like a bloody hippogriff was rampaging around from the way the floor was shaking."

"No, we're fine, Ronnikins. Go find Harry," Fred said with an evil gleam in his eye.

"Oh yeah, speaking of which— Have you two seen him? I've not seen him all day, and with you two around, he's probably lying in a gutter somewhere, dead and with the shape of a unicorn," Ron said through the door.

"Your lack of faith in us is depressing, little brother," George replied. "What makes you think we would _ever_ do anything mean to our dear friend Harry?"

Harry opened his mouth to say something scathing, but was cut off by Fred's hand over his mouth. "Shut up!" George whispered.

"Look, can I just come in?" Ron asked impatiently. Why are you keeping the door closed? What are you doing in there, anyway?"

Fred replied, "Sleeping."

George gave him a quizzical look and mouthed, "Sleeping?"

Fred shrugged and nodded.

Ron stated clearly from outside the door, "Fine, I'm coming in."

Fred and George both burst out at exactly the same time, "NO!"

The handle turned…

The twins shoved Harry behind the door…

The door opened…

…and Ron stepped in.

"RON!" Fred shouted with flagrantly flamboyant— and extremely ersatz— happiness at the sight of his brother. He ran over and gave him a huge embrace, probably with the intent of suffocating him. And it would have worked had Harry, forgetting about his horn, not gotten a sudden burst of his hero complex, and jumped out from behind the door.

Well, he didn't _really_ jump out, he just sort of squawked. And when he did, all three Weasley brothers froze. Ron said, "Harry? That you, mate?" and began to make his way over to the door.

Fred and George each grabbed one arm and said, "RON! Nope, not Harry, that's our pet, um, chicken, he's vicious, don't think you want to meet him, now _LET'S GO, SHALL WE?"_ and immediately started to drag Ron in the opposite direction.

However, Ron managed to shake them off, and ran over to the door. He tried to pull it away from the wall, which would have exposed Harry and his horn. (He was standing in the little triangle-shaped space formed by the two walls' corner and the door.) However, Harry, on the other side of the door, was holding the doorknob. Ron said, "Harry, what's the matter? Why're you hiding?"

Harry tried to think fast. However, thinking had never been one of his strong points, and the best he could come up with at a moment's notice was, "Er… I'm not wearing anything!"

Ron _immediately_ stopped trying to pull back the door. His features contorted into a look of confusion. He glanced next at Fred and George, neither of whom was wearing shirts, because it was summer. He also obviously noticed that their hair was messed up, but _he_ didn't know it was from the fight. He looked back at the door behind which Harry was standing, presumably "not wearing anything," and a look of dawning comprehension crossed his face. He stared at Fred and George for a second (they were still grinning fraudulently), and his left eye began to twitch violently. Ron's face turne very green, and he then ran out of the room, slamming the door on the way out. They heard him mutter as he raced away, "_Knew_ I ought to have stayed out."

Fred and George exchanged glances once more, then started guffawing loudly. "Harry!" George gasped, tears running down his face. "Harry! What an awful excuse! _What in Merlin's name_ made you think of _that?_"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he said, not able to help the small smile that was growing on his face.

"But anyway," George said, still laughing a bit, "We still haven't told you about your promise."

Harry's face fell.

"Now, now, Harry, it's not that bad," Fred said, noting Harry's dismal disposition.

"Not at all," George said, smiling.

"No, all you have to do is this, Harry," Fred said.

"Promise us that you'll do one dare of ours at Ginny's Truth or Dare game," George finished.

They both waited expectantly.

_Well, it's not as bad as it could be,_ Harry thought. He ignored the nagging feeling at the back of his mind and said hesitantly, "Fine."

The twins' smiles grew wider and significantly more evil.

**Okey dokey then, that's the end of that. We'll see where the next chapter goes, if anywhere. Please review, it would make me ever so happy. YAY for boredom! Not really, but you know...  
**


	4. Harry Seems to Have Gone Entirely Insane

**Have you ever heard that one Green Day song intro? It goes like this:**

"**Nobody likes you,**

**Everyone's left you,**

**They're all out without you,**

**Having fun."**

**Yeah. I think that was written about me.**

**And no, it's not because I am a whiny, non-social, annoying, suicidal, look-at-me-I-cut-my-wrists-to-get-attention nincompoop. No, dear reader. Annoying perhaps, but none of the others. That is most definitely not why. And no, I don't cut and I'm not suicidal. Would you like to know the real reason? Yes, you would. It's because all of my friends are in Florida.**

**Stupid band trip.**

**All of my awesome band geek friends are in Florida, getting tan and eating Mickey Mouse. It's this huge music department trip, and all but like three of my friends are in Florida. If they're not in band, they're in chorus.**

**If they're not in chorus, they're in orchestra.**

**And if they're not in any of the above, they're obviously dead because I haven't seen them for a while.**

**Okay, enough whining. I'm annoying and self-absorbed, I know. We've already been over this. On to chapter… uh… four.**

**Wait! One more thing!**

**This chapter is a welcome-home present for Christian, Lizagna, and the gnomes George and Bill, who stowed away in Liz's and Christian's suitcases and were actually in Florida with them the whole time. Fortunately they fit right in at Disneyworld, being gnomes and all. Bill and George, I mean, not Liz and Christian.  
**

Chapter FOUR! _When Tiny People Dressed in Drag Attack! Gasp! Dun dun duunnnnnnnn_ **Author slaps herself for being annoying and using ridiculously cheesy horror music. Then she slaps Harry because he's annoying.**

Our chapter begins with Harry saying "OW!" and rubbing his head because a giant hand just reached down from the heavens and slapped him upside the head. But he quickly forgot about that due to his extremely short attention span.

Sitting in the kitchen, eating lunch like nothing had happened may have seemed like a very strange thing to do.

Which may have been why Harry wasn't doing it.

He was sitting in his room, waiting for the Weasleys to return from theirs, where they were developing the supposed 'cure' for his stupid pink horn. He snorted. If their new antidote was anything like the one they had given him for his headache… He shook his head, as if that would clear his mind. Harry didn't even _want_ to think about what the new 'cure' would do.

Probably set him on fire or something equally stupid.

_Maybe I shouldn't trust them,_ Harry thought. _Maybe I should-- um-- sabotage their experiments or something._

Suddenly, a little miniature devil appeared on Harry's shoulder with a puff of smoke. The devil looked like a miniature Harry wearing those sparkly horns that you can buy at the dollar store. He even had a tail, held on by what appeared to be an elastic belt, to match. In addition to this, the devil was dressed in drag for some odd reason.

Harry gaped.

"Now, now," the devil Harry began, "I know it's odd to see a little Mini Me 666-er appear on your shoulder, but you should know that—"

"You're dressed in DRAG!" Harry interrupted.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm just supposed to represent a side of you that you don't usually let other people see. And boy am I glad that you don't let other people see this. It's embarrassing! _Drag_, Harry? _DRAG?"_

"SHH!" Harry hastily interrupted. "Ron might hear, and given recent events, the word 'drag' would be extremely scarring to him."

Apparently it still hadn't sunk in that there was a mini devil Harry sitting on Harry's shoulder.

"So anyway, what are you— OH MY BLOODY MERLIN!" Harry screamed and stood up quickly. Devil-Harry fell off his shoulder.

"What was that for?" Devil Harry asked as he brushed himself off, annoyed.

"THERE'S A MIN DEVIL HARRY SITTING ON MY SHOULDER!"

There. Harry had realized it. It had taken him a while, but still.

"Where? Oh wait, never mind," the devil said.

"I'M NOT BAD, I SWEAR!" Harry yelled, then realized what Ron would think if he heard that. "WHY ARE YOU HERE?"

"Haven't we gone over this already?" Devil Harry asked.

Harry gaped. He briefly considered running around like a deranged headless chicken, but then decided against it. He was already dealing with schizophrenia, apparently.

"No, you're _not_," Devil Harry sighed melodramatically, rolling his eyes. He poofed back up onto Harry's shoulder. "I'm your _conscience_. Well, half of it, anyway. Jennifer should be arriving any second now."

"Jen— Jennifer?"

Devil Harry rolled his eyes _again_. "Merlin, they told me you were smart," he began.

"Who? Who told you I was smart?"

"I'm really not at liberty to discuss that," Devil Harry said. "And my name isn't Devil Harry, it's Luigi. Get it right."

Harry gaped.

"Anyway, as I was saying, they told me you were smart," said Luigi. "Obviously, they were really, really wrong."

It took Harry a minute, but he finally figured out that he had just been insulted. "Hey!"

"Thanks for proving my point, kid." Luigi pulled a large cigar our of nowhere, lit it with the tip of his finger, and began smoking it. "Well, if you're really as smart as they say, then you should know that every conscience has _two _parts― a _good_ and a _bad_." He spoke as if talking to a four-year-old. That happened a lot to Harry― people treated him like an immature stupid kid. He couldn't figure out _why_…

Luigi tapped his foot impatiently and said in frustration, "Come _on_, Jennifer!"

Suddenly there was another puff of smoke on Harry's other shoulder, and a miniature Harry dressed up as a girl― makeup, short skirt, tight shirt and all― appeared. He (or she) also had wings and a small halo held up with sparkly pipe cleaners.

"Finally!" Luigi exclaimed. "You take for_ever_ to get ready, Larry!"

"_How many times_ do I have to _tell you_: MY NAME IS JENNIFER NOW!" the 'angel' yelled in a very fake high-pitched voice. "Anyway, Harry, now that I'm here, we can begin helping you decide. And by the way, my name's Jennifer."

Harry gaped. He also rubbed his eyes and blinked twice. Then, comprehending what Jennifer had just said, he asked feebly, "Decide what?"

"Whether or not to sabotage Fred and George's experiment, of course!" Jennifer said in a fluttering voice. He giggled loudly (and incessantly for the next fifteen minutes). It sounded like this: "HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEEHEEHEEHEHEEEHEE!" Harry cringed. Jennifer continued, "Cute devils they are!"

Harry twitched spastically, then asked Jennifer, "But… aren't you a man?"

Jennifer turned towards him. "HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! Of course! But my name is Jennifer now! And you have to admit that those two are very cute! HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! And twins!" Noticing Harry's nauseous look, he tried to pout cutely (failed dismally, though), and he asked, "Whatever is the matter, Harry dear?"

Harry, looking very green, said weakly, "I just… threw up a little bit in my mouth."

"HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! You're cute when you're turning different colors!" Jennifer sighed. Luigi cleared his throat and said, "JENNIFER!"

"HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! Yes, Luigi dear?"

"Stop scarring Harry and LET'S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS. _SHALL WE? _Also, don't call me 'dear' _EVER AGAIN!"_

Jennifer's expression turned offended, but he stayed quiet. Harry, meanwhile, wondered about Luigi's choice of words. They were the same ones that Fred and George had used before…

"OK, Harry," Luigi began. "Now, I think this is a stupid problem, but we're new at this, so they gave us the easy assignment. Simple problems come from simple minds, I guess." He waited expectantly for Harry to become offended, but Harry's a moron and he didn't get it.

"Anyhow," Luigi continued, "I think the choice is obvious. You should sabotage their stuff, 'cause they're annoying and it'd be fun."

But then, Jennifer piped up in his fake high voice, "NO! DON'T LISTEN TO HIM, HARRY! _CHOOSE THE RIGHT THING TO DO! NOOOOOOOOOO!"_

"O― ok," Harry stammered, bewildered.

"Are you serious?" Luigi interrupted. "Just mess their stuff up. Look what they did to you. And you _know _you'd have fun."

"Um― o― ok― if you say so―"

"HARRY, _NOOOOOOOOOOO_!" Jennifer screamed effeminately at the top of his tiny lungs.

"DO IT!" Luigi yelled. He began whacking Harry over the head with his tail.

"STOP WHIPPING ME!" Harry bellowed. He then realized that Ron was probably going to need professional therapy now.

"HARRY, NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Jennifer screamed shrilly. "HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!"

"I― I― what― JUST STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!" Harry screamed, thoroughly confused.

Then he heard Fred's voice through the door. "Harry, mate, what's the matter? It's getting a bit loud in there―"

"Don't worry, Fred," came George's voice. "That's just his schizophrenia. It's all right, he must have just forgotten to take his medication."

"They're coming in!" Harry whispered forcefully. "Get out of sight!"

"We're not leaving 'til you decide what you're gonna do," Jennifer said, putting his hands on his hips and tapping his foot impatiently.

"_Leave!"_

"_No!_"

"Fine, then you force me to do this!" Harry hissed, and he grabbed each one off his shoulder. One in each hand, he put his hands behind his back. Horribly, he was squeezing them without even realizing it, probably from stress. They were like little conscience stress balls.

The door opened.

"HAAARRRYYYYY!" Fred said brightly, rushing into the room and giving Harry a noogie.

"We've got the antidote!" George said a little bit too happily.

Fred noticed that Harry was holding his hands behind his back. "Say, Harry," he asked, cocking his head to the side, "What have you got behind your back there?"

"Nothing," Harry mumbled.

"Oh, come on, Harry― blimey― surely you weren't doing… _anything…_ in here by yourself?" Fred asked, a nasty grin growing on his face. "You weren't... _not wearing anything_... again?"

"No!" Harry said, astounded that they could think such a thing. Ew.

"Then you won't mind showing us what you've got there," George said. They obviously thought it was something he was going to chuck at their heads or something, Harry reasoned.

"_Crupetrifo!"_ Fred hissed suddenly. Harry's hands, as if with a will of their own, moved out from behind his back to in front of him. He tried to fight it, but was unable to. Then his hand began to open. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that there would be some questions asked about what Harry was doing with two miniature models of himself, especially when one was dressed in drag and the other like a girl. His hands were about to reveal the stupid conscience or whatever, they were opening, it was practically in slow motion and his hands were open…

"Well, Harry, guess you weren't lying," Fred said. 'We thought it was something that would be hazardous to our health. Sorry, mate."

Harry looked at his hands. He drew his breath in sharply.

His hands were open and there was nothing there.

Drag... feminine... Harry strongly suspected that his next 'side' to show up would be the one he liked to call 'deranged headless chicken.'


	5. Pink Fluffiness Is Never a Good Thing

**Author's note! YAY!**

**Anyway, I don't really have anything to write. I just think author's notes are fun. **

**Wait, I just have to inform you of my new addiction… it's called Avatar: The Last Airbender… hehe… thanks Liz.**

**Also, I've gotta vent. FF. net is being extremely poopy - it deleted one of my friend's stories, and now she can't update for a while. That totally sucks. But I guess George (person) picked the right time to kidnap George (the gnome who helps laxgoalie write ff), because if she can't update anyway then it's pointless.**

**Don't ask.**

**Okay, fine. I'll start Chapter… Five now. Be that way. (Sticks tongue out and crosses arms)**

"So just take this, Harry, and that extremely large zit should clear up in no time."

"It's not a zit! It's a bloody horn, you moron, and you put it there and _you know it!"_

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Fred had laughed, holding up a bottle.

"You mustn't be insecure about your face. Everyone gets zits _sometimes_," George had added, smiling broadly.

"'Cept us," Fred had added thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

"Of course," George had said.

With one last sound of disgust, Harry had grabbed the bottle and stomped off to his room, slamming the door.

Harry replayed this in his mind as he sat on his bed, slowly twirling the small blue bottle in his fingers. He had been sitting there for about fifteen minutes, debating silently whether or not he should drink the small amount of liquid inside. I myself, faced with that choice, would have thrown the bottle at one of the twin's heads and screamed, "You're out of your bloody _mind_!" But I wasn't there, and Harry is stupid, so he finally decided to risk it and downed it in one gulp.

Nothing happened.

Harry grimaced, not believing this. Those two idiots had _sworn_ that it would work! And now, here he was with a bloody pink horn!

"For Merlin's sake!" he muttered under his breath. "I'll bloody murder them!" He jumped off his bed, ready to do just that, when all of a sudden his horn burst into powder. It fell into his eyes, momentarily blinding him. Staggering around the room, he bellowed, "AUUGGH!" and ran into a wall. Harry fell down, and at once all of the powder disappeared. No longer blinded, he sort of stumbled to the mirror to make sure that the horn was gone.

What he saw made him extremely angry.

He ran over to the door, threw it open, and came face to face with ― who else but Gred and Forge.

Angrily pointing to his forehead, he raged, "_You said it would get rid of the horn COMPLETELY!"_

The twins exchanged glances. "Er, Harry, mate, there's… nothing there," said Fred honestly.

"_YES THERE IS!" _Harry bellowed. _"THERE'S A SCAR THERE!"_

"A scar," George said.

"On your forehead," Fred added uncertainly.

"Harry…" they said together.

Then Harry realized exactly how stupid he was being and remembered the whole thing about his parents being dead, and Voldemort killing them, and Harry surviving, and the green light and all. It seemed he had had a temporary memory lapse. Or maybe he was just stupid. There had always been a scar there.

Now seemed like a good time for a "Heh heh. Whoops." So Harry mumbled exactly that, while his face began to turn an interesting shade of neon red and burn uncontrollably. As soon as he was alone, Harry planned to do the whole 'deranged headless chicken' thing.

The twins looked at him, obviously amused by the whole thing. "It's all right, Harry," George said.

"Yes," Fred added, "we all have our deranged headless ― OW!" For George had just elbowed him in the side, trying to be stealthy and failing dismally. "Anyway," Fred said, rubbing his side, "we all have our ― eh ― blonde moments."

"Except for me," said George narcissistically.

Fred rolled his eyes.

About tow hours later, Mrs. Weasley was frantically scrabbling around, trying to find her lipstick.

"HAS ANYONE SEEN MY RED LIPSTICK?" she screeched from the bottom of the stairs. She and Arthur were going to be gone for most of the night, as they had an important banquet for the Ministry of Magic that evening. _Merlin knows these things last forever,_ Mrs. Weasley thought to herself. And indeed they did. If this went as the banquets in previous years had gone, they wouldn't get home until well after two in the morning.

"FRED! GEORGE! DO YOU HAVE IT?" she asked, thinking that they might have taken it to use in one of their 'experiments.'

"MUM!" Fred shouted from his and George's room. "WHY IN MERLIN'S NAME WOULD WE HAVE YOUR LIPSTICK?"

"REALLY!" George added as he threw it into a steaming cauldron.

"I suppose you're right," Mrs. Weasley said. A few seconds later, the house shook with the vibrations of the small explosion that had stemmed, of course, from the twins' room.

"I think I know where your lipstick was," Ron said to his mum, looking in the direction of the twins' room.

"Yes, well, no time for that now, I have to look for my lipstick," Mrs. Weasley said, more than a little bit distracted.

Ron scowled. No one ever paid attention to him.

Then he got a brilliant idea. Well, sort of brilliant. Let's just settle for _smarter than his ideas usually were_. He could make this work to his advantage. But first, he had to make sure his mother really _wasn't_ listening…

Turning to face his mother, he said, "Mum, I've decided that I'm going to eat all of the ice cream in the house." To himself he thought, _I am soooooo bad._ Except he was serious. Ron honestly thought that eating ice cream was roguish.

"That's nice, dear," Mrs. Weasley murmured, looking through her purse.

"A rabid gnome bit my leg off."

"Good for you, George."

"I'm Ron!"

"I completely agree," Mrs. Weasley said vaguely, still not paying attention. Obviously. Ron scowled.

"I'm going to tattoo 666 on my forehead."

"That's lovely, honey."

"I'm going to… um… do underage magic."

"Okay, dear."

"I'm going to join a punk band that's a ripoff of Iron Maiden, and we're going to drink, smoke and have lots of groupies."

"Of course."

Ron drew in a breath ― what he was about to say was, in fact, what he actually wanted. And now that he was fairly certain she wasn't paying attention _at all_, he felt that he may actually be able to get it. He said all in one breath, "I'm going to order some firewhiskey to be delivered to our house while you're out and you need to sign this because if you're not here they won't be allowed to give it to us 'cause we're all underage and if you sign it then we'll be allowed because we'll have parental permission." He shoved a piece of paper under her nose, hoping she'd still be distracted enough to sign it without realizing what it was.

Mrs. Weasley turned around. "YOU MOST CERTAINLY WILL NOT!" she yelled loudly. "I WILL _NOT_ SIGN THAT! NOW GO HELP YOUR FATHER PUT ON HIS TIE! He'll strangle himself without help."

Ron went up the stairs, muttering about how no one liked him.

Meanwhile, Ginny was thinking excitedly about her unavoidable game of Truth or Dare. It was true that everyone else thought it would be incredibly juvenile, not to mention _stupid_, but all of them were willing to play out of the kindness of their hearts. Or maybe it was the intense fear of receiving one of Ginny's Bat Bogey Hexes. Either way, everyone had agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, Arthur and his wife threw some Floo powder onto the fire, stepped in, shouted "The Ministry of Magic!" and disappeared into the fiery vortex of emerald flames.

One minute later, Ginny did what some would call a giggle, but what more intelligent people would call a cackle.

Two minutes later, she set up a bunch of pillows for everyone to sit on, and brought out a medium-sized supply of butterbeer that she had been accumulating for a while.

Three minutes later, she went into the kitchen, procured a fair-sized metal pot, and hit it as hard as she could with a large wooden spoon.

"OI!" she screamed. "EVERYONE COME DOWN HERE! IT'S TIME! AND REMEMBER, YOU ALL PROMISED! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIIIIIIIIIIVE!"

One by one, all of the players grudgingly came down; first Ron, then Harry, then Fred and George. Charlie wasn't even in the country, as he was studying dragons in Albania, and Bill had left a while ago to spend the night at a friend's house.

Fred and George stumbled in last, as has already been said. Fred caught Harry's eye as he entered and winked, smiling as if he and Harry shared some great secret.

"So, Ginny," George said jauntily, "Fred and I just remembered that we have somewhere very ― uh ― very important to go. So we'll just be leaving."

_Yes!_ Harry thought happily. _Now they won't be able to dare me to do whatever they were going to dare me to do _―

But his very repetitive train of thought was interrupted by none other than a screeching Ginevra, as she yelled at her insolent twin brothers to sit down and shut up.

"Okay, Ginny, calm yourself," Fred said, looking slightly frightened.

"Thank you," she said innocently.

Looking around at the extremely apprehensive boys, she asked, "Now. Who'd like to go first?"

No one volunteered. So naturally, Ginny cackled maniacally and said, "Then Ron ― truth or dare?"

Reluctantly, "Truth."

"Okay. Ron, what's the worst prank those two idiots ―" she gestured to Fred and George, who got a _who, me?_ look on their faces ― "have ever played on you?"

Ron drew his breath in sharply. Glancing at Ginny, he asked, "Must we talk about this?"

"Yes."

And so Ron told a lovely tale of how the twins had ― well, let's just say it involved a cantaloupe, a tampon, a penguin named Larry, about four thousand multicolored rubber bands, and a pair of tweezers. The listeners all grimaced many times during the tale. Well, except Fred and George, as they kept laughing like the two raving lunatics that they were at random points in the story.

Then Ron asked Harry. "Truth or dare, mate."

Sigh. "Truth, I suppose."

"Um… did you ever like Hermione?"

"No. She's my friend and all, but kind of anal retentive. She takes life too seriously."

"I agree."

Harry then asked Fred and George. When they picked dare, he said, "Um… go… er… well… I can't really think of anything…"

Ron shook his head in disbelief at Harry's extreme stupidity.

"I've got it!" Harry said suddenly.

"I highly doubt that," Ron muttered under his breath.

"I dare you…" Harry paused dramatically. They waited.

"Harry, spit it out, mate," Fred said impatiently. "We haven't got all night."

"And we're not doing anything that involves removing our clothes," George added.

"Or anything to do with knickers," Fred added.

Harry's jubilant grin slid off his face, and he said, "I've got to think of something new, then."

Fred's left eye twitched.

Then came what Harry had been dreading horribly. Fred said, "Harry, we'll go, and give you some time to think of another dare."

"Harry! Truth or _dare_?" George asked cheerfully, putting emphasis on the 'dare' to indicate that Harry was supposed to choose that.

Harry swallowed nervously, then said in a cracking voice, "Dare."

The twins exchanged a _very_ evil look.

"Harry," said Fred, "we dare you to put _this_ on ―"

George pulled something large and extremely fluffy from behind his back. "―and then go to a house ―"

"― which we'll Apparate you to ―"

"― and ask them if they'd like to go on a _magical ride_," George finished.

Harry gaped in disbelieving chagrin at the innuendo of the statement.

And the fluffy thing?

It was a tutu.

A _pink_ tutu.

A pink _sparkly_ tutu.

A pink sparkly tutu that was about eight feet across, and stuck straight out at the sides.

Oh Merlin.

It wouldn't even have been embarrassing if not for the 'magical ride' thing…

Oh Merlin.

Oh Merlin.

Oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin.

Oh Merlin.

Yes, I am aware that that was extremely tedious and completely pointless.

Fred and George grinned, waiting.

Harry swallowed, closed his eyes, and grabbed the tutu. Unfortunately for our young moron, his eyes were still closed when he tried to grab the tutu, and he completely missed and grabbed Ron's face instead.

It sounded like this:

Harry: _gulp_

Harry's hand against Ron's face: _squash_

Ron: AAAAAGH! AAT ID _OHNG _WID OO, OO OTTY NANNY-OY? LEGGO A MM FERSH!

(_hand-smashing-face-impeding-proper-speech_ to English translation: AAAAAGH! WHAT IS _WRONG_ WITH YOU, YOU SWOTTY NANCY-BOY? LET GO OF MY FACE!)

Harry: _opens eyes_ Wha ― whoops! Sorry Ron… er… I… JUST GIVE ME THE BLOODY TUTU, YOU GITS!

Fred and George: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA YOU'RE A MORON _and so on_

Interesting.

So approximately 4.2 seconds later, Harry grabbed the tutu and put it on, all the while attempting to give the twins the evil death stare. He then proclaimed matter-of-factly, "I hate you both," and waited for them to Apparate him somewhere. Which they did.

_CRACK!_

Harry opened his eyes slowly. He was leaning against a pine tree, and the night was dark and star-filled. The nearly-full moon was easily visible above the pines. There was a great abundance of trees (mostly conifers), and the single house he could see was in the midst of them.

The house, about twenty yards away, was small - a petite two-story, black, with light coming from only one window. From what Harry could tell, the light came from a fire, as the light was orange and flickering. A single silhouette could be seen moving around in the window.

_Hey__…_ Harry thought. _Maybe if Fred and George skive on this, then I won't have to do this… I can just say I did, but not really do it… yeah, that's good. I'll say that the person was really surprised…_ He continued making up an elaborate story in his head.

Harry crept a little bit closer to the house with the intention of looking in the window. Why, he didn't know, but he was going to, and that was that. He stalked a bit closer… twelve yards away, now ten… eight, and…

_CRACK!_

"AAAH!" Harry yelled, then caught himself and jumped behind the nearest pine tree.

"Hey, Harry!" came a jovial voice from a short distance away. "Where have you got to?"

"We're ready for you to do the dare, Harry!" said the other (nearly identical) voice.

Harry groaned inwardly and slid down the tree, rubbing his temples. He was considering hiding, but that was kind of _completely_ ruined when he got a splinter in his back and "YAAAAAAAH!" -ed in pain.

Fred's head poked around the tree, face stretched in a badly disguised ear-to-ear evil grin. "I do believe we've found our friend!" he said to George, whose head immediately poked around the other side of the tree. "Ah!" he said, smiling as if he had wanted nothing more than to find Harry.

"You didn't think we'd leave you to your own devices, did you?" Fred asked. "We're not thick, Harry, we know you wouldn't actually do the dare if we weren't here."

Harry swallowed, then tried to say defiantly (but naturally, did not succeed), "Wh ― what if ― what if I won't?"

George said, "Harry, if you don't, then I sincerely hope you like chipmunks and marmalade."

Fred snickered.

Harry turned white and swallowed again, not even wanting to know what the twins were going to do to him with chipmunks and marmalade. One thing he was fairly sure of, however, was that whatever it was, it would be irreversibly scarring, and probably even more embarrassing (or hazardous to his health, both physical and mental) than this dare. "Fine, I'll do it," he grumbled reluctantly.

He turned and walked towards the house. Taking a deep breath, he reached the front door. He hesitantly reached for the knocker, took another deep breath, and knocked twice. For a moment, he could hear nothing save the crackling of a fire. Then, seconds later, slight thudding footsteps came in the direction of the door. Harry could hear the person muttering to himself - "Stupid ― coming around at this time ― get rid of them ―"

Harry briefly thought about running away ― the phrase "RUN AWAAAAAY! RUN AWAAAAAY!" seemed to apply very well to this situation ― what if this person was a schizophrenic maniacal pedophile, or something? And ― another thought crossed his mind ― (wow! Two thoughts in less than two minutes! A record for Harry!) ― why had Fred and George chosen this house, of all houses? And now that he thought of it, where was he? Fred and George could have Apparated him to anywhere, and he wouldn't know. He had a very bad feeling about his, Harry did.

But unfortunately, the longest train of thought Harry had ever had was interrupted by the door opening. "What do you want?" came a cold voice. Harry, who was looking at his feet so as to avoid looking the person in the face, was so worn out from all that strenuous _thinking_ that he didn't even realize that the voice was a familiar one. He asked dully, "Would you like to go on a magical ride?" and winced, expecting the door to be slammed in his face. But instead of a door, he was met with an incredulous, "_Potter?_"

Harry gasped. Looking up in bewilderment and oh-Merlin-oh-crap-I've-really-done-it-now-ness, he saw the disbelieving (and greasy) face of his least favorite Potions Master.

Snape.

**Ok, guys, whaddya think? Just so you know, laxgoalie (read her stories!) helped me think of an ending for this chapter. I wish I could say it was my idea, but I can't. But anyway, revews are appreciated, as always, and I'll update my other story soon. Sort of. Maybe. Not really. I'll start writing it soon, though. I heart you! (whoever you are)  
**


	6. One Grand Freaking Finale

**Author's Note.**

**Jesu Cristo, I have not updated this story (or any of the other ones, now that I think about it) in months. Do you ever get ADD? Yeahh. **

Harry Potter was a brave boy. Although this was because of his prodigious naïveté, he was a brave boy nonetheless. So the instinct to flee was one very seldom felt by Harry. In fact, he had only experienced that instinct twice before (once when Ron got drunk and decided to shave his legs and give Harry eyebrow extensions with the hair, and one other time that Ron got drunk and started doing inappropriate things to Harry's broom). Staring up into Severus Snape's face on his front porch, then, was the third time Harry had ever felt the flight instinct kick in.

A moment of silence passed in which Snape seemed to be trying to grasp what was happening. The moment passed, and Snape's composure went with it.

"POTTER! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?"

Harry's brain cell seemed to be frozen. His mind was telling his legs to run away, but they for some reason were not functioning. So his body and his mind compromised, and Harry did the first thing that came to mind: he bitch-slapped Severus Snape right in the face.

Grease flecks flew into the stratosphere.

With an expression of utter and total fury, Snape stared at Harry for a fleeting second, then grabbed the Boy-Who-Lived's collar and dragged him inside. The door clicked shut, and the twins' efforts to open it were useless.

Fred and George exchanged nervous glances. This wasn't how the trick had been planned. Snape was just supposed to, you know, get mad and slam the door, maybe take a picture of Harry in the dumb outfit and show the other teachers, etcetera. This hadn't been in the plan. Something was wrong.

Suddenly there was a scream that, had it not been inside, would have been earsplitting. The scream was cut off suddenly by a dull THUD. Fred and George could see the silhouette of something dark splattering against the curtains.

Fred and George exchanged another terrified glance. Fred said in a panicked whisper, "FUCK."

George was freaking. "We killed Harry Potter!"

"This wasn't supposed to happen!"

"No effing way! We need to talk to her!"

"Maybe she can do something."

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right. She can fix it."

"Yeah. HEY! HEY YOU! George and me wanna talk to you!"

It would have seemed to any passersby that the twins were talking to the air around them, generally in the direction of the sky. But no, they had not gone entirely crazy.

In quick succession, clouds gathered in the sky, then parted to allow a giant, glowing hand to descend. Raucous laughter was coming from behind the clouds.

YES? said an impressive and boomy female voice. It was the same voice as the laughing voice.

"We want to come up," said Fred. "This whole thing has gone horribly wrong."

HAS IT, THOUGH? said the voice joyfully. ALL RIGHT, YOU CAN COME UP AND WE CAN TALK. HOLD ON A MOMENT. The giant hand descended all the way to the ground, at which point the twins got on to it. It lifted them up into the part in the clouds.

Suddenly the twins were standing knee-deep in murky water. Over their heads was a leafy, wet tropical canopy. The sky (what little they could see of it) was all grey. Fred looked down to see several bright yellow rubber ducks floating past him.

"Where are you?" asked George. "And why does this place change every time I come up here?"

"Yeah, it was an igloo last time, remember?" reminisced Fred.

"How could I forget," said George, "with all the Pixie Sticks growing out of the ice? Remember?"

"Yeah, that was weird―"

"Hello, boys," said a voice. It was a more real version of the one in the clouds. "A fine day, don't you think?"

A blonde teenaged girl with a huge smile stepped out of the foliage.

"What do you think?" she asked, spreading her arms to indicate the scenery. "I thought it was a nice change from all the ice … of course, I'm getting a little bored of it already …"

"Um, it's very nice, Tristan," said Fred distractedly. "But what we really wanted to talk to you about was the prank thing, you know the one we played on Harry, and it was your idea, and you helped us out with some of the stuff, and well now it's all gone terribly wrong. Haven't you been watching?"

The girl ― Tristan's ― smile grew even wider and she said, "Of _course_ I've been watching!"

The twins looked at her, confused. "So you've been seeing what's happening and you're not _stopping_ it?" Fred asked. "Why? Harry's dead, we think!"

She laughed. "I know! Want to see?"

"What?" Fred and George said.

"I said, do you want to see? You know I can see everything from up here. Come on, take a look." She picked a brightly colored pair of scissors off of a tree that was apparently growing them, and she cut a huge hole in the air.

The hole was right over Snape's house. The twins could see the roof but at the same time could see through it. It was odd, but they tried not to think about it. Instead they concentrated on the ghastly scene in front of them.

There was blood all over the walls of Snape's humble abode. The dead Boy-Who-Lived was lying on the kitchen table, and one of his legs had been cut off. Snape was currently cursing because he couldn't fit the whole leg into his blender. With a malevolent grin he used a machete to cut the leg down to an appropriate size. Sitting by Harry's body was a margarita glass with a little umbrella in it.

Fred threw up.

Tristan closed the hole in the air and smiled contemplatively.

"So you see," she said. "The plan was a success. Well, for me, at least. We seem to measure success differently."

"Of course we measure success differently, you lunatic!" George yelled. "You killed Harry Potter!"

Tristan merely smiled in response.

"We're leaving," said George. "C'mon, Fred."

"Why did you kill Harry Potter?" Fred asked wearily as he and his twin stepped onto the hand that would return them to their world.

Tristan smiled innocently. "He annoyed me," she said as the hand began to descend, and then clouds obscured her happy face and Fred and George were unceremoniously dumped onto the ground in front of the Burrow.

Back in another world, a doctor in a white medical robe was showing a corporate somebody around the facility. His hospital needed the grant from this man's company so badly. The doctor sighed. _This is what you get for trying to help people_, he thought. _Bankruptcy_.

His thoughts were interrupted by the businessman's questions about an unmarked door. "What is through here, Doctor?" he asked the balding man.

"That's the psych ward of the hospital," the doctor replied. "It can get depressing, I'm sure you don't want to see that."

"Actually, I _would_ like to see it," said the businessman ― Mr. Smith? The doctor never could remember these peoples' names.

The doctor sighed, and reluctantly pushed the door open. Anything to get the stupid grant.

The first few rooms were solitary confinement. The businessman peered through a one-way mirror into one of the cells. Inside was a blonde teenaged girl. She was cackling and saying, over and over again, "Harry Potter is dead! Harry Potter is dead!"

"So sad," said the man with entirely fake sympathy. "So sad, the way these poor people have to live."

The doctor glanced into the cell, where the girl, who looked deliriously happy, was sitting. "I don't know," he said without thinking. "Sometimes I think I'd like to escape reality, live in my own little world."

The doctor became aware of an awkward silence. The businessman was looking at him strangely. His cheeks grew hot.

"I mean, yes," said the doctor hastily. "Very sad. It is very sad. Now if you'll look in this room, you'll be able to see all of our patient medication charts …" He pointed the man in the direction and, with one last look at the happy crazy girl, followed him out of the psych ward.


End file.
